Once Upon a Time on Mars, Chapter 4
by Tom Ladd
Summary: A young woman in the former Soviet Union struggles to keep her family together after their grandfather disappears - in the new Soviet Space Shuttle. NEW! Edits Added 8/28/11


Baikonur Cosmodrome

Sasha and the crew settled into their quarters. They were housed in what could only be described as sparse but pleasant holiday bungalows, two men to a room. The walls were all painted yellow, with purple trim, and on them there hung photos of laughing women and children by the Black Sea, enhancing the holiday effect.

When he first saw them Sasha thought it odd that he should be expected to enjoy souvenirs of other people's families, but he decided there were worse ways to decorate what were in actuality military barracks.

The bookshelves held classic works of fiction and autobiographies, including Gorky, Turgenev and Hemingway. Sasha was partial to Hemingway but greatly admired Gorky. Not many other writers could boast of completing one's master work in the Appalachian mountains, being harassed by American police and press for espousing socialist views, then returning to revolutionary Russia to become a hero of the Soviet Union. But Gorky could, and Soviet readers were quite proud of it.

Sasha was bunking with an old friend and comrade, Colonel Sergei Antonov. They had been training and flying together since Sputnik left the earth. Sergei always had interesting stories to tell and was great company, as well as being an excellent pilot. He had earned a chestful of medals, and shared with Sasha the honor of being a Hero Cosmonaut. Sasha loved Sergei's summation of the title's greatest virtue: "It doesn't pay anything but women love it. So it's well worth almost getting killed in flight school."

Sasha and the new flight crew began their training in earnest the next day. They woke early, at 5:00 a.m., and after breakfast they readied the equipment they would be using, then helped each other put on their flight suits. The first two days found them doing repeated maneuvers in the flight simulator, which Sasha found quite exhilarating. He enjoyed testing the balance of the artificial shuttle, knowing it was as close an approximation to the real ship as technology could achieve. He paid as close attention as he could to the details programmed into the machine, even though the actual experience would be quite different and assume its own problems and details. But in the simulator he could habituate himself to the main pitches and yaws designed into the actual shuttle.

They spent several hours in the underwater EVA spacewalk training environment as well. Large centrifuges prepared them for the sudden g-forces they would encounter. There they practiced transporting equipment and manipulating tools. While in order to avoid the risk of electrocution, they did not run electrical current through the simulated power tools, they did have an insulated mobile spotlight which they could turn on or off as they required. In this way they could examine areas of their work which were shrouded in darkness or otherwise hidden from them, exactly the conditions that awaited them in space. And of course their lead-lined boots and dehydrated food prepared them for their mostly freeze-dried diet, and gravity boots they planned to use as they operated in and around the shuttle. They found the food to be provocative, at least of conversation.

Several hours underwater definitely gave them the feeling of weightlessness, though their heavy flight suits made the sensation rather academic as they had to maneuver with the extra weight limiting the movements of their extremities.

"What good is it being weightless, when you have to push through an extra ton or so of flight suit holding you back? I feel like I've put on 500 kilos," griped Sergei.

"At least we're building muscle tone in our arms," noted Sasha.

"Muscle tone, weightlessness. These are all euphemisms for the exhaustion of Soviet workers," said Sergei. But he trained with as much enthusiasm and vigor as Sasha, and his complaints were always grounded in levity rather than discontent.

They had not yet met Gurevich. They did, however, meet the rest of the old crew. Sasha made an effort to meet and talk with each one, to feel them out about their feelings for Gurevich and their possible complicity in his endeavors. After the initial removals by Lavrov here were three of them left. They were all professionals: Pavlovich, Semyonova, Fedorova and Andreevna.

Yuri Pavlovich had graduated with honors from flight school, and had racked up his own medals as a test pilot. Furthermore, he had flown combat missions over Korea and Vietnam, usually training the pilots of those countries but always answering the call should an alert be sounded, signalling the nee6d for his military skills in the air. He was an excellent pilot and a double ace. He had entered the space program in the 70s, when the "hot" wars looked like they were cooling down.

Katya Semyonova had been in the space program for five years, but a military pilot for twenty. She had her test pilot medals as well, but complemented her flying skill with a love of teaching. She had given a lifelong commitment to the education of her comrades, young or old, in how to achieve the greatest skill in the air. But she also knew her way around an aircraft, and offered a course every other year in ground maintenance. She was so competent in getting the impossible to work, in fact, that mission control had made that the deciding factor in their choice of her for the present mission. If anything went wrong with the technical operations of the space vehicle, Katya would be able to fix it. She had two sons, both serving in Afghanistan; though this war promised to be long and ugly, her boys had told her quite firmly that Afghanistan wasn't just a backward country made of shepherds - it was a close outpost of socialism, and if it were re-claimed by the counter-revolution, then the entire defense strategy of the Soviet Union, vanguard of world socialism, would crumble to dust in the eyes of the international proletariat. "We cannot lose in Afghanistan," intoned Igor, her oldest, solemnly, "for if we do we will lose in the rest of Central Asia, Eastern Europe, and maybe even Russia herself."

Nadia Feyodorova was the navigator on the mission. She had served in the Soviet Air Force for fifteen years, during which time she had earned her share of medals for flying skill, as well as important state prizes for her inno6vations in extraterrestrial cartography. She had begun work mapping the photographic results of the Soviet Venera missions to Venus in the 1970s, making her an innovator in the field when she had barely graduated from college. She had of course mapped nearly the entire face of Mars visible to Earth. Nadia was truly blazing a new trail, for it was she who made the maps which charted a new world.

Tanya Andreevna was the youngest member of the mission. She had served in the Soviet Air force for ten years, and the space program for five. She was a flight engineer, and, having won her own prizes for designing efficient and elegant engineering systems, had played a large role in designing the very Soviet shuttle in which she was destined to leave the earth. Tanya would monitor all the ship's systems along with Katya. T6ogether they would perform most of the maintenance and repair operations, and if any spacewalks were required to fix something outside the vehicle ("extra vehicle," or EV), they would be the first to don their flight suits and step out into space.

After dinner the cosmonauts would usually play a couple of hands of cards with their colleagues. They did not discuss the ramifications of their mission during these encounters. But they were friendly and recounted favorite anecdotes and stories, especially of their families. Stories of home had been a favorite of cosmonauts from the beginning of space travel, but from the beginning they had also noticed its inherent, unpleasant contradiction: it represented the highest achievements of humanity, and promised infinite potential for discovery, and so brought unlimited glory to those who undertook it; but on going into space even the greatest cosmonaut would have to leave her family behind, and thus on extended missions would inevitably suffer homesickness and loneliness.

"This is typical of human life in general," commented Sergei. "We are given the most thorough training on the planet, we reap untold benefits for humanity, we travel the shimmering paths of glory and success, and still we end up being miserable."

After one such card game, Sergei observed another facet to their mission: they had not been briefed about the name of their ship. They knew as much as it was possible to know about her functions and their role in sustaining her, but they had not yet learned her name. "Seeing as how we are expected to crew this vehicle for up to a year, I think it would be nice if we knew what to call her. Are we expected to name her ourselves?"

Sasha looked at them and cleared his throat. "I have been briefed about her name, but like so much else surrounding this mission it is a state secret."

"So we aren't going to learn her name until we read about it in the history books decades from now?" gasped Pavlovich.

"I and the designers, meaning Tanya, know the name, but we were forbidden from discussing it with you up to now."

"What's different about now?" Sergei asked.

"Now you have expressed an interest in her name, and so presumably are developing an emotional bond with her," explained Sasha. "Mission control therefore believes it is now appropriate that the name be revealed to you. Comrades, she is the Buran Eleusis. Welcome to her service and her glory."

The New Mexico Desert

1985

The freight train pulled out of the yard so slowly you wouldn't notice it if you weren't waiting for it, even though you were riding right on top of it. Foma Vladimirovich [a real name? sp?] had settled into his perch upon the coal car some hours before, crouching on the cold steel and rounded bolts of the platform between his car and the freight car behind him. Since nothing else was going to happen worth noticing, he sensed the movement of the train at once.

He had ridden one freight or another straight through from El Paso to Bakersfield, beginning in the chill air of the West Texas desert and heading even further toward the sunset. The town names and railroad yards had been about the only changes of scenery for a long time, since the train only passed through desert after desert, meaning two weeks of hot days, freezing nights, cautious movement and jumping between trains, and of course, avoiding security guards. He was headed for Los Angeles.

He had a little money saved but couldn't spend any of it on plane, bus or train tickets if he wanted some ready cash on arrival. He had a sleeping bag, cooking pots and utensils, and he decided not to buy anything other than bread and canned foods. He decided that by trainhopping he could get to where he was going in the same shape as on any of the other forms of transit, and this way do it for free.

He had often ridden trains in the past. Foma's journal reflected much of his journeys. He recounted in a descriptive and detailed manner the high points of his odyssey, always guarding the lesson that work was hard and life was not always easy.

Of course, life had its perks. One of his favorites journeys was up the California coast to San Francisco. There he worked at various odd jobs as casual labor. Once he and his friend Pavel worked unloading food crates into a warehouse. When they were done, the owner was quite happy with their work and gave them both boxes of high end brand name soups and organic foods. They were both quite happy to take the great food home and spent the next couple of weeks enjoying their own fine cooking.

Baikonur Cosmodrome

"Buran Eleusis. What a beautiful name," said Katya. "And fraught with ancient meaning."

"To what ancient meaning do you refer, Comrade Flight Engineer?" asked Pavlovich.

"Eleusis," began Katya," was the location of the initation of mysteries to devotees of the Goddess in Ancient Greece. They were so secret that the full details of their rituals are still not known. But the Eleusinian mysteries were said to bear with them revelations of divine meaning, and knowledge of the universe."

"And since then," added Tanya, "the name 'Eleusis' has taken on the added meaning of divine ecstasy brought to the world, that is, heaven on earth."

"Well, I find that quite appropriate for a socialist space ship, as that is where socialism is carrying us." said Sergei."I also like the idea of traveling through the heavens in a ship named 'Heaven.' Surely the space gods will smile upon us, if they have not yet all been destroyed by the revolution."

"And if they do not smile, comrade, what then?" asked Pavlovich.

"Then it's much better for us if the revolution polished them all off," concluded Sergei.

Sasha began to get the feeling of immense anticipation he had felt on previous missions, a ferocious desire to march forward, to fly forward, just to get moving in any way toward the radiant future that, for him, was space. But this time, due to the threats posed by Gurevich and the Yeltsin faction, the ultimate objective of the mission was not known, nor was it possible to foresee its probable conclusion. So his anticipation was tinged by an unfamiliar tightness in his belly. But he remembered his resolve and capabilities, and so steeled himself against his first taste of such anxiety as he had not known for forty years. Then he was entering Germany in 1945, and then also he was confident of victory. But he was also condemned to be always unsure of the fate of his comrades until the war ended, or until they were killed, and so he was constantly followed by the feeling of regret for catastrophes which had not yet occurred, for the suffering which did not yet exist, but which was inexorably stalking all of them.

New York City

1986

The limo had glided into the hotel garage, settling smoothly to a stop at the passenger loading zone in front of the elevator. They left their empty drinks in the minibar and got into the elevator. Rob produced a key and inserted it into an unmarked slot beneath the rest of the floor buttons.

"What's the key for?" asked Amy.

"It takes us to our room on the roof. It's the penthouse, the only room up there," said Rob. It's got quite a view. You'll love it!"

The elevator did open up into small hallway, and only one entrance faced them - a set of double doors, shining with dark varnish.

Rob opened up the doors and led them into a cavernous living room.

"Whoa, this is huge!" gasped Amy's friend.

"And look at that view. You can see for miles!" said Amy.

The atmosphere was relaxed and they were still enjoying themselves. Lena was working on a shot of bourbon, while Amy and Lisa each had a glass of wine. Amy was talking animatedly to Jerry, while Lena listened attentively to Rob. Lisa seemed to be doing fine, but she was looking a little sleepy.

Jerry said, "Amy, you sure are a great person. I noticed you also have an accent, a little like Lena's. But you can barely hear it. Where are you from?"

"I am from Ukraine," Amy said proudly. "My family came hear only a few years ago on a work visa. And they're still working!" She giggled for what seemed to Lena like a rather long time. Lena was feeling warm and relaxed, like she'd rather do nothing else than stay sitting on the couch for the next few months.

"That's great," said Jerry. "Look, I haven't been to the Soviet Union, but I've been to France. I've got some pictures in my room over here. Do you want to see them?"

"Oh, sure!" said Amy. "Let me see them." They walked into the next room.

Lisa sat down on the loveseat next to Lena's couch, and Jim sat down with her, putting his arm over her shoulders. She was smiling, and reached for her drink, but couldn't quite seem to pick it up, as her hand kept falling to the side of the glass. She looked at Jim with a quizzical expression.

Lena's warm feeling had shot up through her entire torso now, weighing her down on the couch so that she found it almost impossible to move.

Rob was watching Lena intently, barely blinking. She watched him back a moment, then discovered she couldn't look anywhere else but straight ahead.

She realized what had happened, and that powerful drugs were working their way through her body. Her every muscle was still. She tried to speak, but could barely get her mouth around words. "Of course you know you're assaulting Soviet citizens," she said. "You're in a lot of trouble."

"No way, baby, " Rob said, "it's all over. You know the Wall's come down. The entire Warsaw Pact is going to fall apart. And the Soviet Union will soon be no more."

Lena blinked through her foggy eyes, feeling so tired that her limbs were as heavy as lead. Jim laughed his horrible, croaky laugh, and stared at her with a leering smile.

"It's all over, baby. Socialism is dead. We just buried it in the dustbin of history, and you people are all that's left. You mean nothing to anybody. You're prey to the winds of fate, like orphans nobody wants."

Rob stared at them coldly, grinning like a crocodile.

"Which just leaves you - and us," he said, looking around at his friends and croaking another laugh. "I think that means you lose."

Lena could barely hear him now, as she watched him blur through her foggy eyes, and she grew ever dizzier, and the room got darker and darker. Then she was falling. She just hoped she wouldn't hit her head or fall to the floor, as she slowly toppled over onto the couch.

New Mexico Desert

1985

Foma jumped the train after his ex-girlfriend had called him at the Sandy Cat Restaurant where he worked in El Paso. "I need to see you," she said. Her name was Alicia, she lived in Los Angeles, and her black hair shone velvet in the moonlight.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I got beat up and the kid's at her aunt's house. You know what that means."

Foma was quiet for a moment. The kid was their daughter Svyeta, who was nine years old. Her aunt was actually her step-aunt Marion, who had a house in Mid-Town L.A. Marion's habits included gardening and weekly strolls around MacArthur Park. She had a brother, Rick, who happened to be Alicia's boyfriend. His habits included gambling and cocaine.

Rick was a lot of fun to be around when he was winning. But Foma knew what Alicia meant. Rick was losing now and sore about it, and had taken it out on Alicia. He had also grabbed Svyeta and lit out for somewhere, probably Marion's house.

"Yeah," he said gently into the phone, "I know what that means."

The first thing it meant, of course, was taking a leave from the Sandy Cat, packing up and jumping a freight train west.

He tried not to feel in a hurry. Los Angeles wasn't going anywhere.

Foma Vladimirovich lit a cigarette, lay back on his steel bed, and slid through the freezing night, wind and stars.

To Be Continued


End file.
